friendlyforrest

[friendlyforrest]

athena and telemachus

[friendlyforrest]

Telemachus needs to stop finding himself in precarious and dangerous situations… or might might think he’s a little too into it…🧐

‼️⚠️SLIGHT NSFW WARNINGS ⚠️‼️

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Telemachus: I DON'T HAVE DADDY ISSUES!

Antinous: You don't have a dad, and that's an issue.

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˖ ⊹ SHARPWOLF NSFW HEADCANONS

(tw for mentions of noncon/r*pe kink)

Antinous will often bully and taunt Telemachus into “fighting” with him in order to get Telemachus into a vulnerable position so he can take advantage of him, holding the boy down by keeping all his weight on him, stripping him down as he struggles, Telemachus is resistant at first and tries to squirm helplessly to flee, but no matter how hard he tries he can’t fight back, Antinous is much stronger than him, more experienced. But after some struggling, Telemachus finds some enjoyment in the filthy degradation and man handling Antinous offers over time.

Even so, Telemachus will stay in denial, or even unaware of how he’s feeling, because he’d just assume he’s misinterpreting his own emotions and being pounded with intrusive and irrational thoughts.

Antinous loves hearing his little wolf mewl and howl in desperation, wanting to escape but also wanting to endure more, Telemachus cries and begs for it to stop but that only adds fuel to the fire. He loves how Telemachus tenses up around Antinous’ fingers and cock, how he struggles to get away, he loves the pathetic and prey like nature Telemachus emits so naturally.

Telemachus bites and scratches in attempt to stop Antinous’ violation, but it has the opposite effect of his desired one, Antinous loves it to bits. He loves how his nails feel digging into his skin, how his teeth feel as they sink into his flesh… what a pathetic little mongrel Telemachus was in his eyes, but he did admire his determination to fight back.

Antinous is rough while handling Telemachus, choking him and tugging his hair, smacking or spanking him to make him yip and cry more. Biting into his neck like a beast holding down its prey while he ruins Telemachus’ pride, or at least whatever pride he has left.

Telemachus starts to enjoy getting violated by Antinous, in a horrible way, it makes him feel desired and wanted, it also fills him with a sense of senseless pride to know he can be a good enough toy/distraction to keep his mother safe, it made him feel things to be so valuable to someone… even if it was in a way that shouldn’t be looked at that way, Telemachus loved it, he loved having purpose, he loved being strong enough to take it. He would continue to endure this if it meant keeping his mom safe… and if it meant he could keep feeling this fucked up validation Antinous offered him.

He found Antinous’ violent and rough nature almost admirable, he was so strong… so capable of himself, such a strong warrior, someone to look up to as a guide. Telemachus wants to be good enough. Good like Antinous.

Telemachus loves it when Antinous praises him for being obedient or fighting back, it made him feel strong and confident… even if in the moment — he was the complete opposite of that… at least in Antinous’ eyes. Whilst Telemachus saw himself as brave and strong for enduring these things, Antinous saw him as pathetic and weak, but… in a like hurt puppy kind of way, because Telemachus was quite cute for his attempts at trying to be better than him.

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Telemachus: Don't you dare call my mother a tramp!

Antinous:I just did,what are you gonna do about it champ?

Telemachus:...

Telemachus:There are other ways of persuasion~

Athena watching all in the background:

Like father like son

Manwhore au💞

[friendlyforrest]

I’m in LOVE with this, thank you❤️

A KINGDOM OF COURTIERS

(Telemachus Harem)

written by: Han Espiritu

Disclaimer: this story idea solely belongs to @friendlyforrest they have a very lovely and immaculate brain. I just brought their idea to life, even just an ounce.

---

The great hall of Ithaca, once filled with the rowdy sounds of feasting and idle boasts, had grown… refined. The suitors, once a mob of entitled men vying for Penelope’s hand, had found a new purpose: winning the heart of Telemachus.

It hadn’t started that way, of course. Initially, the suitors had come with the single-minded goal of claiming Penelope, securing Ithaca, and basking in the glory of Odysseus’ absence. They had planned, schemed, and positioned themselves strategically to woo the queen.

But Telemachus had been a problem. At first, a mere obstacle—young, inexperienced, and yet possessing a quiet fire they had overlooked. He did not cower as they had expected. He stood firm. And in their efforts to deal with him, they found themselves drawn to him.

The shift was slow, barely noticeable at first. A word here, a glance there. A jest turned into a private conversation. An argument became a late-night discussion that stretched until dawn. They learned his mind, his heart, his desires. And suddenly, Penelope was not the only prize.

---

“Come on, lad, pivot your foot when you strike. You’ll put more power behind it.” Amphinomus demonstrated, spinning his wooden sword with practiced ease.

Telemachus wiped the sweat from his brow. “Like this?” He swung, and Amphinomus barely managed to dodge.

��Ha! Much better! Maybe don’t aim for my ribs next time.”

“You told me to put power behind it,” Telemachus shot back, a smirk creeping onto his face.

Eurymachus, lounging nearby, smirked. “You should hear the bards sing of your improvement. ‘Telemachus the Fierce,’ they say. Your mother will be thrilled.”

“You think so?”

“Of course! Just as she’ll be thrilled when she sees your latest weaving.”

At that, Telemachus flushed, setting his sword down. “It’s just a hobby.”

Antinous scoffed. “A hobby? Your work rivals the best in Ithaca. We should commission a loom twice the size for you.”

“You—” Telemachus narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Eurymachus feigned innocence. “Oh, but we already did.”

Telemachus groaned into his hands as the suitors laughed.

---

The city streets were abuzz with life. For the first time, Telemachus walked among his people, led by the ever-enthusiastic suitors.

“You’ve really never been through the city?” Amphinomus asked, guiding him through the market.

“My mother always kept me in the palace. For safety, I suppose.”

“Well, today, we rectify that. Look here, finest Ithacan olives! And over there, the temple of Athena. You should see it at sunset.”

“I didn’t think you’d know so much about Ithaca,” Telemachus admitted.

Amphinomus chuckled. “If I’m to live here, I should know it well.”

Telemachus paused, lips parted slightly. Amphinomus, realizing what he’d just implied, rubbed the back of his neck.

“Live here?” Telemachus finally said, voice quieter than before.

The suitor only grinned. “If I am to serve my prince, I must know my home, mustn’t I?”

Telemachus swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

---

One evening, under the flickering torchlight of the great hall, Telemachus found himself cornered by Eurymachus, whose sharp tongue was only rivaled by his disarming smile.

“You spend too much time worrying,” Eurymachus murmured, leaning in close as he poured Telemachus another goblet of wine. “Let the burdens of the kingdom rest for one night.”

Telemachus huffed, but accepted the drink. “Easy for you to say. You only have to charm and jest. I have a kingdom to inherit.”

Eurymachus tilted his head, considering. Then, suddenly, he reached forward, brushing his knuckles against Telemachus’ cheek. “And yet, here you are. Sitting with me.”

Telemachus’ breath caught. “You—”

“What? Am I wrong?” Eurymachus smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You like my company.”

Telemachus turned away, cheeks warm. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet you’d miss me if I were gone.”

Telemachus had no answer for that.

Eurymachus chuckled, then, softer this time, recited,

“Like the sea that kisses the shore, Or the stars that chase the dawn— I am bound to you, evermore, For in your gaze, I am drawn.”

Telemachus swallowed hard. “You—” He hesitated. “You’re dangerous.”

Eurymachus leaned in even closer, their lips a breath apart. “And yet, you’re not running.”

---

Late one evening, Telemachus sat by the fire with Antinous. The hall was mostly empty, save for the soft crackle of flames and the quiet murmur of voices in the distance.

“You’re different than I thought you’d be,” Antinous mused, swirling his wine.

“Oh?” Telemachus arched an eyebrow. “And what did you think I’d be?”

Antinous gave him a lopsided smile. “Weak. Timid. A boy struggling under his father’s shadow.” He tilted his head. “But you’re not. You’re fire beneath the embers.”

Telemachus looked away, the heat of the fire nothing compared to the warmth creeping up his neck. “And you’re softer than you pretend to be.”

Antinous let out a soft chuckle. “I’m only soft for those who deserve it.”

Telemachus met his gaze. “And I do?”

Antinous exhaled sharply, gaze darkening. “My mother… she was never kind. She never saw me as anything but a tool.” His voice was quieter now, raw. “I swore I’d never be like her. That if I cared for someone, I’d never make them feel like I did.”

Telemachus reached out, hesitating only a moment before taking Antinous’ hand. “You’ve already proven that.”

Antinous laced their fingers together, gripping tightly. “Then let me keep proving it.”

---

When Odysseus finally returned, he did not find a palace overrun with pigs and thieves.

He found his son, stronger than he’d left him, lounging in the great hall with the suitors draped around him in casual intimacy.

Odysseus blinked. Then blinked again.

Telemachus was seated comfortably, Antinous leaning lazily against his side, one arm around his shoulders. Eurymachus was feeding him grapes, an amused smirk on his lips. Amphinomus sat at his feet, looking up at him with obvious devotion. Several other suitors were nearby, chatting and laughing, all far too comfortable.

Odysseus cleared his throat. Loudly.

All heads turned. Silence fell.

Telemachus blinked up at his father. Eurymachus, completely unfazed, popped another grape into Telemachus’ mouth.

“What in the name of Olympus—”

Penelope, ever the wise one, only sipped her wine. “You should have seen them before. It was rather entertaining.”

Odysseus opened his mouth, then closed it. His eye twitched. “So. Which one are you choosing?”

Telemachus fidgeted. “I… I don’t want to choose just one.”

Odysseus looked at Penelope, aghast. “You cannot be serious.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow. “And why not?”

“Because this—this is madness! There are a hundred and eight of them!”

“And? Did you expect Telemachus to inherit only your stubbornness and not your charm?”

Odysseus groaned, rubbing his temples. “By the gods, what did I come home to?”

“A son who has grown into a fine young man,” Penelope answered, her gaze softening as she looked at Telemachus. “And one who has made his own choices.”

Odysseus sighed. “So you truly want all of them?”

Telemachus bit his lip, glancing at the suitors. They looked back at him, some amused, some entirely devoted, all waiting. “I… I love them all.”

Odysseus threw his hands in the air. “Hera preserve me.”

Penelope only smirked, sipping her wine. “Welcome home, dear husband.”

•┏────────────────────━

•┗─►⚠️ Warning: Plagiarism is a Serious Offense ⚠️

Plagiarism—the act of using someone else’s work, ideas, or words without proper acknowledgment—is unethical and can have severe consequences. Whether intentional or accidental, plagiarism can lead to academic penalties, legal repercussions, and damage to one’s reputation.

To avoid plagiarism:

✔ Always credit the original source.

✔ Use quotation marks for direct quotes.

✔ Paraphrase properly while maintaining the original meaning.

✔ Cite all sources accurately following the required citation style.

Respect intellectual property and uphold integrity in all your work!

[friendlyforrest]

I’m feeling inspired here’s mpreg ody and penelope the impregnator

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My jaw is on the floor (Aphrodite is cheering her mentee on in the background)

WHAT LITTLE WOLVES CAN DO

(Antinous x Telemachus) (R18)

written by: Han Espiritu

Disclaimer: got the first idea from @thhouseofblack you my liege is amazing, your brain is immaculate for thinking such ideas. (I happen to get ahead of myself so...yeahhh so many things in the story I guess.)

---

The hall of Ithaca was alive with the sound of laughter, wine sloshing in golden goblets as the suitors indulged themselves at Telemachus’ expense.

“Look at him,” Antinous sneered, swirling his cup of wine lazily. “Not a scar on him, not a callus. What sort of prince is this, who has never known war, never wielded a blade?”

A ripple of chuckles spread through the gathered men. Eurymachus leaned in, his lips curled. “He looks more suited to weaving than ruling. Tell me, Telemachus, do you spend your days combing your hair while waiting for your mother to choose a real king?”

Telemachus did not rise to their taunts. Instead, he leaned back against the polished wood of his chair, the golden clasps on his chiton catching the firelight. His dark curls, heavy with oil and adorned with delicate pearls, spilled over his shoulder as he tilted his head, studying them with a slow, indulgent smile.

“Ah, Antinous,” he sighed, voice lilting, almost musical. “You wound me so. What shall I do now that you have exposed my scandalous lack of battle scars? Shall I weep? Shall I rend my robes?”

The men laughed, but there was an edge of unease in the room. He was not flustered. He was not angry. He was...amused.

Telemachus stretched out his arm, inspecting his own hand as if seeing it for the first time. His fingers were long, elegant, unblemished—hands that had never known hard labor. He trailed them idly over the rim of his cup before lifting it to his lips, drinking deep before continuing in that same languid tone.

“It is true,” he murmured, eyes dark and glimmering beneath his thick lashes. “My hands have never held a plow, nor have they been chafed by the hilt of a sword for long. But tell me, Antinous—have yours?”

Silence.

Antinous’ jaw tensed, his fingers curling slightly. Telemachus’ lips quirked in something too soft to be a smirk, too sharp to be a smile.

“Ah,” Telemachus exhaled, feigning realization. “You are much like me, then. A prince, used to the comforts of silk and gold, your weapons handed to you by others. And yet, here you sit, mocking me.” He leaned forward, voice dropping just enough that the firelight flickered in his golden eyes. “Are you embarrassed, Antinous? That we are not so different?”

The air in the hall tightened. Eurymachus cleared his throat, shifting in his seat, but Telemachus was not done. He set down his goblet and rested his chin lightly on the back of his hand, eyes hooded, lashes casting shadows over his cheeks.

“You see,” he continued, sweet and slow, “I find it terribly amusing when men mistake softness for weakness. When they think that just because my hands are unmarked, I must not know how to wield a bow. That just because I have never bloodied a spear, I must not know where to strike.”

He let the words hang in the air like a knife’s edge, tracing idle circles against the rim of his goblet. Antinous was watching him now, eyes narrowed, but saying nothing. A first.

Telemachus let his gaze wander over the other suitors, over their flushed faces and stiff postures. He had them now. He always did.

He sighed, standing fluidly, stretching like a great cat before tilting his head toward Antinous once more.

“Enjoy the feast,” he murmured, turning with an easy grace. “You’ll find that soft hands make for a rather...unpredictable touch.”

With that, he walked away, slow and deliberate, the long train of his chiton trailing behind him. The suitors muttered among themselves, but Antinous merely clicked his tongue in irritation. His jaw was tight, his grip on his goblet so firm that the metal threatened to bend beneath his fingers.

And yet, his eyes lingered on Telemachus’ retreating figure longer than they should have.

A muscle in his cheek twitched as he exhaled sharply. Damn him. Damn that smug, slippery little prince with his golden adornments and his silver tongue. Antinous slammed his goblet onto the table and stood, ignoring the questioning glances from the others.

His feet carried him forward before his mind had even settled on his decision. He followed, his steps quick, calculated, but never desperate. The corridors of the palace were dimly lit by flickering torches, shadows dancing along the walls as the night air cooled the stone beneath his sandals.

Telemachus did not turn, but Antinous knew he was aware. He could feel it. The deliberate slowness of his steps, the almost lazy way his fingers trailed along the carved columns as he moved deeper into the halls.

“You walk like a man who wants to be followed,” Antinous finally spoke, voice low, nearly a growl.

Telemachus chuckled, soft and knowing. “And yet, it seems you followed all the same.”

Antinous clenched his jaw. “Where are you going?”

Telemachus turned his head slightly, just enough for the dim light to catch the curve of his smirk. “Away from prying eyes. Or do you enjoy making a spectacle of yourself?”

Antinous scoffed, but the heat curling in his gut made his fingers twitch. He didn’t like being toyed with. He didn’t like the way Telemachus made him feel like he was walking into a trap, even as he willingly stepped forward.

Telemachus disappeared around a corner, and Antinous, despite himself, followed.

But when he turned the corner, Telemachus was already there, waiting. A step closer than he should have been. Antinous stilled as the prince reached out, fingers ghosting over his wrist, soft but firm enough to make him aware of the touch. A whisper of perfume—amber and sandalwood, rich and heady—curled into his lungs.

“You seem tense,” Telemachus murmured, voice low, almost conspiratorial. “Are you afraid?”

Antinous scoffed, but his throat felt dry. “You think you can corner me?”

Telemachus leaned in, their bodies nearly flush. “I already have.”

His fingers dragged up, slow, deliberate, tracing the line of Antinous’ pulse. His voice was a purr, his eyes lidded, dark with something unreadable. A challenge. A promise.

“Tell me, Antinous,” Telemachus whispered, lips barely a breath away from his ear, “if I were to ask something of you... would you deny me?”

Antinous swallowed. Hard.

The prince’s smile was victory incarnate.

The space between them was suffocating, charged with something thick and unspoken. Telemachus remained where he was, golden adornments catching the flickering light as he tilted his head up, his lips curling into something too knowing, too practiced.

Antinous stood stiffly, his hands twitching at his sides. The playfulness in Telemachus’ gaze sent a slow, heated curl of something dangerous through his spine.

“You followed me,” Telemachus murmured, voice smooth, seductive.

Antinous scoffed. “You wanted me to.”

Telemachus hummed as he took a step closer, his fingers dragging lightly over the fabric of Antinous’ tunic, teasing but never truly touching. His eyes, deep and honey-warm, flickered with something that set Antinous' nerves alight.

“Do you want me to stop?”

It was a trap, and Antinous had walked straight into it. His breath came quicker, harsher, but he didn’t step away. He couldn’t.

Telemachus smiled at the silence, at the tension thrumming between them, before he sank to his knees in one slow, deliberate motion. His hands, deceptively soft and unscarred, pressed to Antinous’ thighs, kneading, spreading warmth through the fabric. His movements were languid, indulgent, like a man who had all the time in the world to unravel his prey.

Antinous sucked in a breath, his fingers flexing at his sides, trying—failing—to maintain control. Telemachus looked up at him through dark lashes, his expression full of wicked amusement, like a cat toying with its meal.

“You’re quiet,” Telemachus whispered, fingers grazing higher, teasing. “I expected more fight from you.”

Antinous gritted his teeth, jaw tight. “And I expected you to be less... shameless.”

Telemachus chuckled, his lips ghosting against Antinous’ skin, a featherlight promise of something devastating. “A lesson, then,” he whispered, pressing a slow, lingering kiss just above where the fabric of Antinous’ tunic gathered. “Not all battles are fought with swords.”

Antinous' breath hitched, his fingers twitching before they finally found purchase in Telemachus' thick curls. His grip was tight, possessive, but Telemachus merely hummed in approval, his hands smoothing over firm thighs as his head dipped lower.

He moved with precision, with patience, with the kind of knowledge that came not from innocence but from understanding exactly how to wield power. His mouth was warm, wet, leaving a path of slow destruction as he worked his way down.

Antinous cursed under his breath, his hips pressing forward despite himself. Telemachus let him, let him tremble beneath his touch, let him feel the way his own restraint crumbled. And then, with a teasing flick of his tongue, a slow, torturous drag of his lips, Telemachus took him in.

A sharp inhale. A strangled curse. Fingers tightening in his hair.

Telemachus smiled against him, victorious, before sinking deeper, his head moving with a rhythm designed to ruin. The torchlight flickered wildly against the walls, but neither of them noticed.

Not when the only fire that mattered burned between them.

•┏────────────────────━

•┗─►⚠️ Warning: Plagiarism is a Serious Offense ⚠️

Plagiarism—the act of using someone else’s work, ideas, or words without proper acknowledgment—is unethical and can have severe consequences. Whether intentional or accidental, plagiarism can lead to academic penalties, legal repercussions, and damage to one’s reputation.

To avoid plagiarism:

✔ Always credit the original source.

✔ Use quotation marks for direct quotes.

✔ Paraphrase properly while maintaining the original meaning.

✔ Cite all sources accurately following the required citation style.

Respect intellectual property and uphold integrity in all your work!

[friendlyforrest]

Penelope:how strange... Antinous and the suitors haven't bother these days to ask for my hand in marriage,i don't know what you are doing but keep doing it Telemachus!

Telemachus who has been sleeping with Antinous so he can convince the other suitors to leave Penelope alone

Telemachus:Yes mom,i will

[friendlyforrest]

Antinous/Telemachus/Peisistratus

Do you see my vision?

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He didn’t stand a chance 😣

odysseus from dimension 20 titan takedown's armor on epic odysseus 😔 can't believe he got taken down by a cat like that

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Sharpwolf is fun😤 and I’m tired of pretending it isn’t

"Why is Sharpwolf okay? Why do you ship it, it's disgusting"

READ THE FUCKING ODYSSEY OR ILL RIP YOUR EYES OUT

Not really I just get emotional Abt the ships I like and dislike

Sharpwolf is compilcated, but so is the rest of Greek mythology

"But Telemachus marries Circe"

Only in the roman verison, which as we all know, they sucked ass took everything from the Greeks but made it all worse.

In the Odyssey, YES Antinous is still trying to get with Telemachus' mom. In a not so silly way..

I acknowledge that, but if you, oh idk, do your research you'll find Antinous the whole time is like "Telemachus, please, sit done with me and dine. Have a drink, I'll help you get a ship, but relax for now" and they're more buddy buddy but Telemachus doesn't like him. So it's kind of like overly pompous man subtly flirting with a prince who hates him.

Also because I read the Odyssey, I ship Peisistratus and Telemachus.

I love being a multishipper <3

Anyway, there's a rant Sharpwolf lovers. Hope you don't hate it

[friendlyforrest]

What if antimachus fused like in Steven Universe?

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The only Tele/Anti/Eury dynamic that I accept and I WILL NOT be taking constructive criticism 🙂‍↔️

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I need to protect this tiny man🥺

Things about chibi Eurylochus 🙏🗣️

[friendlyforrest]

A beautiful oneshot but at the cost of my own shattering heart 😭🥺 (thank you for gifting it to me, I will forever sob now❤️)

thinking about penelope and melantho so hard i wrote 1500 words in 45 minutes here

anyways, was melantho the daughter penelope always wanted? did the betrayal hurt more than the trick being revealed? of course it did. was penelope more angry or heartbroken? did she yell and curse melantho or did she was stare at her with the most disappointed face because she should have known what was happening in her own home?